Page 120 of Psycho Pack

"Bullshit," Whiskey snaps. "You don't get to drop this bomb on us and then just?—"

"I get to do whatever I damn well please," Plague snarls.

The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. I've never heard him speak like that before. Never seen this side of him. But beneath the cold rage, I catch something else in his voice.

Fear.

"Plague," I say softly, drawing his attention. I step closer to him, but he flinches away even though I'm nowhere near close enough to touch him. The others fall silent, watching us. "We're just worried about you."

His expression softens fractionally as he meets my gaze. "Don't be," he says, but there's a gentleness in his voice that wasn't there a moment ago. "I told you before. You can trust me."

"But you don't trust us," Thane says flatly.

"I trust you with my life," Plague replies. "I trust you withherlife. But this..." He gestures vaguely at our opulent surroundings. "This is something else entirely."

"What are you afraid of?" I ask quietly.

The question seems to catch him off guard. For a moment, raw vulnerability flashes across his features. Then his walls slam back up.

"Get some rest," he says, turning away. "You'll need it for tonight."

Well,that'snot ominous at all.

He strides toward one of the archways leading deeper into the guest wing, his movements precise and controlled. But I catch the slight tremor in his hands, the tension in his shoulders.

He's panicking.

And I need to figure out why.

Chapter

Twenty-One

PLAGUE

Ican't stay in the guest wing.

Not with all their eyes on me.

Not with their burning questions hanging in the air like daggers waiting to fall. And who can blame them? I've been lying to them for years. Hell, I was even starting to believe my own bullshit.

I've practically forgotten who I really am.

My feet carry me through familiar corridors. Past whispering servants and bowing courtiers. Up winding stairs and through gilded archways until I reach the door I swore I'd never darken again.

My chambers.

The lock clicks open at my touch, recognizing me even after all these years. Inside, nothing has changed. The same white marble floors gleam beneath my boots. The same gauzy curtains drift in the breeze from the open balcony. The same forbidden medical texts line the shelves, their spines cracked and worn from countless nights of secret study.

They've maintained it perfectly.

Like a tomb.

Like they were waiting for a ghost to return.

The scent of jasmine drifts through the open balcony doors, and suddenly I'm back in the gardens. Adiir's lips on mine. His hands in my hair. The way he looked at me like I was something sacred right before I?—

Bile rises in my throat.